Common Misconceptions
by SewerSurfin
Summary: Sometimes what is commonly believed is not the truth. When one digs deeper, truths are revealed which lead to a whole new course of events. Raph was lost... And now they live with the consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine. TMNT belongs to Nick.**

**A/N: This is an idea I have had for a while, and the plot has going through many revisions before I got to the point where I felt I had solid story. Many of the themes/characters are drawn from the 2012 verse, but there are elements from other series in here as well. **

"_By itself, a year seems finite and self-contained. But break it down...52 weeks, 365 days...and a year appears to become a much longer distance to traverse. And when a brother is gone...that year morphs into an insurmountable chasm with no definable beginning or end. It is a chasm without hope, without compromise, where two of my brothers and I have been clinging to the sides in unspoken desperation. For a whole year we have searched the depths, into the reaching darkness for even the faintest glimmer of light. I fear if we cannot find the light soon, all of us will be swallowed by the night…"_

Michelangelo's pen moved deftly over the crinkled page of his journal, tears rimming his eyes as he recorded his innermost thoughts. The words flowed with unbridled honesty, the privacy of his writings enabling him to drop the pretense he held around others. He had no need to hide here, no need to hold back. Everything was laid out - sharp and painful and twisting in his gut; but regardless was a stark truth he wished he could deny as a fading nightmare.

Closing his journal slowly, he placed it back in the drawer to his desk and got to his feet with much reluctance. He knew what awaited him outside of his room: a hushed, oppressive silence covering layers of unspoken guilt like a thick coating of unwanted dust. And in the times that the heavy quiet was broken, Mikey was forced to battle the tides, sanding the shores against two raging forces: brothers who used to be so rational, so logical, now reduced to…

...ever since…

He hated to think about it.

He glanced wistfully at a picture on his desk of himself and his three brothers. He picked it up gently and held it reverently in his hands as if it were a sacred artifact. Three of the siblings were smiling widely at the camera. Michelangelo's eyes focused on the fourth, whose stoic expression allowed only the slightest upturn to the sides of his mouth, but whose expressive green eyes gave away everything.

"Has it really been a year, Raphie?" Mike asked of the picture, obviously knowing he would get no reply. Sometimes it was just nice to hear a voice - even if it was his own - that wasn't laced with bitter accusations and blame.

The image of the bright red mask in the picture blurred as the tears grew upon him mentioning his brother's name. The word felt foreign and uncomfortable on his lips, his mouth clumsily forming itself around each letter. That simple realization was the ice chipper that broke the elaborate frigid sculpture Mike had formed himself into over the last year, the tears falling like the melting of a spring thaw. He hastily replaced the picture on the desktop, face down.

"You always used to call me a crybaby," Mike said, letting out an uneasy, derisive chuckle.

He had known before bed last night that today - the _anniversary_ - was not going to be easy. A day is not tangible - just a moment in time and a number on a calendar, but this one Mike felt he could reach out and touch...a weight in the very air around him holding on with nothing but a promise of more empty tomorrows.

"But," he sniffed, continuing, "no use for these anymore." He hurriedly wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist band. "It's not going to change anything. You're still gone."

As much as part of him didn't want to, he felt a sudden need to get away from the picture; a need to get away from everything, from nothing…from _what _exactly he wasn't sure. But the urge was overwhelming.

With light footsteps echoing the stillness around him, he made his way down the stairs, ending up in the kitchen. One of the few joys he still experienced was in cooking. He felt pride in the fact that he could craft nourishment from the odds and ends they kept in the fridge and cupboards to feed his family. It was a small comfort, and a task he took to heart.

The pots and pans he gathered clattered off each other, the sound seeming to multiply upon itself in the otherwise stagnant aura of the lair. He mused upon that as he cooked with robotic precision; cracking eggs...it was as if his family were stuck in a single moment in time; sizzling bacon...they refused to move on; popping toast...a whole year had passed and yet it was like yesterday.

Despite not feeling in a cheery mood himself, Mike arranged the eggs and bacon on four plates into smiley faces. He knew no one would notice, but it was the small details such as this that the young turtle tried to stick to. It was habit for Mikey, and something Raph had always jokingly given him grief about...which now had become Mike's silent, unspoken tribute to his brother.

He wiped his hands on the dish towel and headed out to gather his family for breakfast. His first destination was the dojo, where - like clockwork - the disciplined Leonardo was training. Splinter was meditating under the tree at the center of the dojo, a single stick of incense burning next to the ninja master, its smoke snaking into the air in erratic curves.

Leo's brow shown with the sheen of a fine layer of sweat, his eyes narrowed and intense in his concentration. One katana clenched between two hands, the other in the sheath behind his shell, Mike watched as Leo brought it about in graceful arc after graceful arc. The blade reflected the sunlight which filtered in from the grating above the tree flashing dancing reflections upon the walls. Each move of the young leaders' was timed and precise, but was much more mechanical than it used to be. Leo's ninjutsu used to exude his love of the art, not just his dedication, but how it was a part of his very being. Now... even as he had gained in skill, it was as if the spirit had been drained from him and all that remained was one of Donatello's pre-programmed automatons.

"Leo, Master Splinter," Mike cleared his throat to gain their attention. "Breakfast is ready."

Leo grunted an acknowledgement, but had not even broken the kata. His brow furrowed behind his blue mask as if irritated by the interruption. One of Splinter's ears twitched before his brown eyes opened and he regarded his youngest son with a distant sadness. The sensei gathered his jade topped staff in one clawed hand and then raised himself to his feet to head out of the dojo.

As he passed, he said in a hushed, but grateful tone, "Thank you, Michelangelo, as always, for keeping your brothers fed. I will see you soon in the kitchen."

Mike nodded appreciatively before turning his attention back to his oldest sibling. "Come on, Leo, I made your favorite: eggs and bacon and toast. If you don't hurry, the toast will get all cold and chewy and I know you hate it when it's like that…"

Leonardo stopped mid-kata in a sharp motion and sheathed the katana. His ocean blue eyes met Mike's baby blue with a look of hardened steel, tempered into a cold sharpness. The leader then wordlessly left, his agitation radiating off of him like hot rays from the sun on stifling summer day.

Mike tried not to let it get to him, as he did every day, but Leo's attitude still hurt. The orange masked turtle knew it was Leo's way of grieving...but it was unfortunately as dysfunctional as a certain other brother of his...

_Raph would not have wanted it this way..._ Mike thought morosely to himself as he spanned the distance from the dojo to Don's lab and gave the large door a cautious knock.

"Enter!" came the muffled, gruff reply from the other side.

Michelangelo slid open the door carefully, just enough to let himself squeeze through, and shut it behind himself. The sheer size of Don's lab rivaled that of the dojo itself, but the darkness in which the genius kept it made it seem so much more substantial and imposing than the training room. Besides the pinpoints of light from various inventions blinking from the shadows, the only illumination was from a lamp placed on the desk in which Donatello was working. Don's form was silhouetted by the meager light, from which Mikey could hardly make out his details. The purple clad turtle was faced away from his younger brother, his shell like an insurmountable barrier separating the siblings. Don appeared still except for the slight movements of his shoulders as he worked on a project.

Mikey immediately felt awkward and nervous, Don's lab nothing even resembling the lively hubbub of ingenuity that it used to. Now it seemed as if he were an intruder, a foreigner invading an enemy camp.

"Ummm, D?" Mikey asked tentatively. "Breakfast is...ummm...ready and since you didn't eat last night...I thought that...ummm...you would want to eat…"

"Stop saying 'umm'," Don chastised in a clipped tone. "It makes you sound uneducated."

Mike winced at the comment, eyes squinting painfully shut, but as he did with Leo, he tried not to take it to heart.

"Donnie…" Mikey said in a pleading tone. "You need to eat."

"Is Leonardo going to be there?"

"Well, yah, D…"

Donatello replied darkly, "Then I will eat later."

"Donnie, I thought that we could all eat together, especially today -"

"I'm aware of what today is, Mike," Donatello said coldly as he reached for a tool grasping it so tightly that it bit sharply into his palm. He added as a mumbled afterthought, "Doesn't matter."

"But it _does _matter, Donnie," Mikey protested.

As if Mikey had caught him in a lie, Don pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. He calmly put down his tool and turned to face his brother. Michelangelo swore he would never get used to the haggard look to Don's face, the deep circles under his brown eyes that shone through the bottom of his purple mask.

In a rare glimmer of his old self, Don's voice and expression softened, "I'm sorry...Of course it does, Mikey. I will try...for you."

"Thanks, Donnie," Michelangelo said gratefully.

Mikey allowed a weak, hopeful smile to play at the corners of his mouth. Maybe today, as Mike desperately hoped, would mark a new beginning and they would finally begin to heal.

**A/N: Thoughts? The vagueness of this first chapter was purposeful. Things will start to piece together as it goes along. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing, especially not four awesome mutant turtles who happen to know ninjitsu. Oh well.**

**A/N: Thank you for reading/reviewing/favoriting/following! It's truly an inspiration to continue on...and thus I have!**

Leonardo was nearly finished eating when Mike and Don reached the kitchen. His fork scraped across the plate as he scooped up the last of his eggs. His brothers' shadows appeared softly on the table, faint in the muted light of the kitchen. His head snapped up in response, instantly locking gazes with Donatello. Leonardo's eyes narrowed, his expression as icy and inhospitable as the Antarctic. Without missing a beat, Don's hackles were raised like an offended feline and he returned the vicious glare. Neither spoke, but the intensity of their eyes conveyed a vitriolic message, corrosive and acidic.

Mike observed the wordless display between his two older brothers, his gaze flickering between the two like an indecisive flame dancing in the breeze. They had gained Splinter's attention as well, who regarded his three sons with a weary despondency. He stood carefully, gauging silently and readying himself to intervene.

"So, Leo," Mike spoke awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood, "how did you like the breakfast?"

"It was fine, Mike," Leo stated flatly, never taking his eyes off Donatello.

Mikey could feel the tension rising thick in the air, choking and dangerous like a deadly poison. This was not going at all how Michelangelo had wanted. The orange masked ninja had wanted today to be a day of new beginnings, of mending the broken ties of their lives. But instead, he could feel the undercurrent of blame brewing, leading to the same exact argument his brothers got into whenever in the same room. It had become an endless labyrinth of words and heated dispute between the two, each path leading to a dead end which neither could escape.

_Donnie said he would try..._Mike thought hopelessly. His aspirations seemed to be flying away on charred wings, dropping him back into the blackened pit. _Why can't they just see that neither one are solely to blame?_

… … … … … … … … … …

_The thick curtain of smoke obscured everything. It burned in Mikey's lungs, searing heat in his nostrils. He could feel it leaving a trail of fire through his body. He hastily tore the band from his right wrist and held it in front of his nostrils to try to filter some of the air. He crouched lower to the ground to try to get below the smoke._

"_MIKEY!" he heard the a chorus of two of his brothers calling his name. _

"_Leo! Raph! I'm over here!" Mikey shouted, immediately realizing he wasn't exactly sure where "here" was through the blinding soot filling the air. _

"_Don't move, Mikey," he heard Leo's comforting voice through the smoke. "We are almost over to you."_

_Mikey coughed as the smoke filled his lungs, stealing precious oxygen. He gaze swept from side to side, his eyes squinted against the stinging of the ash. He promptly saw his brothers' forms through the indistinctness. Leo's normally graceful stride was hurried and near frantic. Raph's bulky form had followed suit, and they were soon within his view, appearing like an oasis to a thirsting man in the desert. Leo clutched onto Mikey's arm, painfully tight, but Mikey had no inkling to protest. It was an anchoring hold, firm but full of concern._

"_Where's Donnie?" Raph asked, his apprehensive voice muffled through the cloth he had pulled from his own hand wrappings to act as a breathing mask. _

_Mikey shook his head. "I thought he was with you, bro." His throat felt raw and his words were raspy from inhaling smoke. He coughed sharply again._

"_I told'm to head out once the fire started...he was trying to -"_

… … … … … … … … … ...

Michelangelo was jarred sharply from the memory by the sudden motion of Donatello scraping a chair across the cement ground to sit across from Leonardo. It had become a stare down between the two, Don reaching for his own fork in a stiff motion.

"Mikey worked hard on this, Leo," Donatello breathed out, his voice monotone.

"I know."

"You could have at least waited."

"Mikey said he didn't want it to get cold."

"Always an excuse with you," Donatello said in a low voice. It was almost as if he were referencing something other than toast and eggs.

Mikey cast a sidelong glance at Splinter, whose tall form had remained a statue over the table. The sensei was still assessing the situation, his keen brown eyes weighing the possible outcomes.

"It- it's ok, Donnie," Mike chimed in as if he were trying to iron out stubborn wrinkles.

"You don't need to defend him, Mikey. He's not perfect. Far from it, actually," the genius's tone grew bitter. "He's just making excuses again...excuses to deflect from the truth for his own convoluted version of reality."

"_What?!" _Leo's eyes sparked like tempered steel. He rose sharply to his feet, his hands placed firmly on the table top, his shadow coming to loom over this two younger brothers.

"_Donatello_," Splinter warned, a deep rumbling which carried through the tiny kitchen.

Mikey could feel himself starting to shake, his hands trembling and clammy. Clearly this had been a mistake...he had only wanted...

"Really, Donnie," Mikey reasserted himself. "It's no problem."

"Isn't it, though?" Don huffed. "I knew I should have stayed in my lab."

"So you can sit in there and _hide _from the truth," Leo bit out.

Don's eyes widened, something playing in their reddish brown depths which Mike couldn't quite figure out. Whatever it was, Donatello's demeanor changed and he shut down. His shoulders hunched and he lowered his head, his purple mask tails flopping down to the side.

"I'm not _hiding_," he mumbled, looking off to the side.

"Bros...come on…" Mike interjected futilely.

Leo hummed as if not convinced, crossing his arms defensively across his plastron. With clipped motions, he then placed his dirtied dishes in the sink and went to leave the kitchen. Splinter, in one swift, graceful motion, swung his clawed hand out to hold onto his eldest son's wrist, preventing his departure. The look he gave the blue clad ninja was one of deep sorrow mixed with the stern command of a parent. Michelangelo saw every muscle in Leo's body tense at the sudden grip their sensei had on his wrist, as if on guard.

"Donatello, Leonardo," Splinter addressed his sons in an admonishing tone he had not used since they were small, "that is enough. You will both come with me now."

The mutant rat made no further indication for his sons to follow. He then calmly released Leonardo and drew himself to his full height before heading out of the kitchen, his arms clasped behind his back. The only outward sign of the tumult of emotions stirring in their adoptive father was the jerky swishing of his tapered tail as he walked. Leonardo and Donatello trailed out after their sensei like a solemn funeral procession.

Splinter lead the way to his tree, motioning for his sons to kneel before him. The brothers did, bowing their heads and placing their hands on their thighs. Mikey lingered in the doorway to the dojo, peeking nervously around the opening, his fingers curled around the bricks. He was not sure if he was permitted to enter, but at the same time containing a mixture curiosity and concern for the situation.

"You may come in, Michelangelo," Splinter addressed his youngest son, not looking his direction, but aware of his presence.

Michelangelo nodded slowly, taking a seat at a far wall. Despite getting permission from Splinter, he still felt as if he were intruding. Then again, wherever he went nowadays felt like he was intruding. He continually walked on crumbling eggshells, feeling like a stranger in his own home.

"My sons," Splinter began, his voice strong and firm. "This has been going on long enough. I have stood by patiently, waiting for the two of you to work through your differences. Do you both not think that this has not affected Michelangelo and myself as well? Raphael -"

"Is gone, Sensei," Leonardo stated firmly. He lifted his head to look his father in the eyes. "There is nothing more to be said. He's gone."

Donatello visibly winced on Leonardo's statement, but kept his gaze focused on his knee pads.

"There _is _much more to be said, Leonardo, and that is the problem," Splinter replied. "I didn't just lose one son that night, I lost three. Although you and Donatello are here physically…" his words trailed off as he shook his head morosely.

"Master Splinter, I _am _here," Leonardo protested.

"You are not truly listening to what I meant, Leonardo."

Leonardo sprang to his feet, rare defiance blazing in his eyes.

"I _always _listen! _Always!_" the katana wielding ninja defended between gritted teeth. "It was _Donatello _who didn't listen! I _told _him we needed to get out of there!"

His head whipped to his still kneeling younger brother. Donatello seemed to be trying to shrink in on himself.

"I...I only needed a few more minutes, Leonardo," Donatello replied. "I was trying-"

"I _know_ what you were trying to do!" Leonardo shot back. "And it wasn't that important! Getting us out of there _alive_ was more important!"

"I just needed a few more minutes," Donatello snapped in retaliation, his own renewed anger blazing past any shame he had just previously felt. He glowered at the leader. "I would have been _fine. _I knew what I was doing. If you had trusted me...I could have _shut down _the whole entire Technodrome! Disabled the Kraang forever! But you wouldn't wait! Wouldn't give me those last few minutes -"

"We had to get _out _of there. I was doing what I _had_ to do to keep you all safe," Leonardo ground out. "If you had left when I had told you to...he wouldn't have gone in after you, he wouldn't be…"

"I could have made it out...I was almost done...if you guys had left...he wouldn't be…"

"Gone…" both of the brothers whispered in unison.

The word seemed to linger in the air, hideous pollution of the mind. Michelangelo could almost physically feel the conflicted emotions rolling off of his brothers. He wanted to go over and comfort them, but something held him back. Instead he shifted uncomfortably, longing to rid himself of the unease.

"Leonardo...Donatello…" Splinter began, but was interrupted by an ear piercing alarm sounding out through the lair. Splinter, his ears being far more sensitive than those of his sons, instinctively brought his hands up to cover his ears. "What is that?" he shouted above the noise.

Donatello bounced to his feet, an expression of shock immediately switching to one that was grim and serious.

"That's the security system I installed last year…" he yelled. "I set it to go off if anyone approaches the lair who does not match the identity specifications I programmed it with."

For once, Leonardo and Donatello exchanged looks which did not contain anger.

"Which means…" Leonardo reached subconsciously for his katanas.

Donatello knew exactly what his older brother meant. Grabbing his Bo he replied in a dire tone, "We have an intruder…"

**A/N: Ok...so there is chapter 2. A little more has been revealed, but still much is a mystery. That's how this story is going to evolve, bits being told through flashbacks, dreams, etc as the plot advances. So worry not, all will be clear in time. And if you feel inspired to leave a review, that would be much appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own TMNT.**

**A/N: Here is Chapter 3 :) A huge thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this, or leave a comment/fave/follow. It means a lot to me! And just for age reference...the turtles are about 18 in this. Also, I will admit that although Donnie is my favorite, you may have noticed that, I am mostly sticking to Mikey's 3rd person perspective on things. That is purposeful. I will switch to others at times, but mostly it will be Mikey. Partly because I need practice writing him, and partly because he is the one who has been trying to hold everything together while Leo and Don aren't handling Raph's loss as well.**

Michelangelo sprinted to action along with the rest of his family. There was no time to think. If there was truly an intruder, they had to reach it and take care of the situation. He clutched his nunchucks in his hands, bracing himself for anything. He felt the same vibe from his brothers and sensei: the pre-battle adrenaline coursing through their veins as they prepared to take down an enemy. They hadn't fought anything as a team in months, as the Foot and the Kraang had been oddly and suspiciously quiet, but the old spirit was there; the oneness that Mikey had missed. Except without Raph...it felt as if they were charging in with a missing limb, but this was not a moment to dwell on that.

The youngest brother reached the turnstile entrance a split second before the others, his natural athleticism making him faster. He crouched in a battle stance, his chucks swaying ominously in a continuation of the lost momentum. His muscles coiled and his heart beat in his ears like a death march. His bright blue eyes darted side to side swiftly, taking in everything, his senses on high alert. The alarm from Donatello's system continued to blare in warning, the screech digging painfully into Mike's brain like pointed ice picks. But through all this...he saw nothing amiss. No hulking monsters, no gooey mutants, and definitely nothing strange he could possibly give a creative name to.

Leo came to a stop behind him hissed urgently, "Do you see anything?"

Mikey half turned to his brother, never fully taking his attention off the entrance. Donatello had melded into the shadows as best as he was able in the open layout of this area, and made his way over to a control panel on the wall and pressed a button, the buzz of the alarm instantly falling silent.

Mike shook his head in a distracted manner.

Leo nodded sharply, his eyes narrowed and white with intensity. "But we still need to investigate."

His leadership instincts taking over, Leonardo turned to his brothers. Using the hand motions they had devised a few years ago (and that Raph had always mocked), Leo commanded his brothers to fan out. Splinter indicated that he would remain where he was, most likely to cover the rear in case a possible intruder made its way past the turtles.

Mike found a ninja's solace in the shadows, taking the path to the left, while Leo took the middle and Don took the right. He kept his shell to the wall, concentrating on every soundless step as he carefully placed one foot in front of the other. He even measured every breath he made, setting a natural cadence with each inhale and exhale. Stealth mode was sometimes difficult for him, his innate energy and constant busy mind at odds with the cautious speed he was forced to make while moving covertly.

Leaping effortlessly over the turnstiles, and still seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he made his way out to the abandoned subway tracks. The old, rusted tracks spanned out into the distance in each direction, the darkness swallowing the view after a few dozen feet. Mikey squinted to attempt to see into the void, coming to a stop just before the line of blackness. He strained his ears to hear something, anything, but all he could hear was the dripping of distant water down the tunnel.

"Guys!" Donatello whispered insistently from down in the direction he had taken. "I think I found something!"

Mikey instantly took off to reach Don, passing Leo in the process. When coming to Donatello's side, Mikey followed his older brother's gaze to what appeared to be a pile of brown cloth ahead of them. It was still and unmoving, like a pile of lifeless soil.

"I don't know if that's anything more than a blob of trash, bros," Michelangelo commented, his voice hushed.

"Someone had to put it there, and someone had to set off the alarm, Mike," Leonardo responded. "And _that _is what is concerning."

"Could the alarm have glitched or something?"

"I seriously doubt _that,_" Donatello interjected with clear offence. "I run routine diagnostics on all my inventions."

"But still -"

"No." Donatello stated simply, his voice cold. He sharply pushed his Bo into Michelangelo's hands and pushed him in the direction of the cloth. "Poke it, see what's in there." Don ordered.

Michelangelo frowned, his brow furrowing in annoyance. "Why is it always me who has to do this stuff, D?"

"Simple. No one else wants to. You're the youngest. It's all very logical and scientifically based."

"I don't see any logic in it, dude," Mike muttered as he took a cautious step forward. All of a sudden, with him at the forefront, the task seemed all the more daunting. What was under there? Maybe it was something concerning like Leonardo thought? What once seemed like a harmless pile was a slumbering giant. With shaking, clammy hands, he reached out as far as he could go to the mound without having to draw any closer. He brought the Bo closer, until it was a few millimeters from the side of his target. Hesitating, he glanced back at his eldest brother who gave him a "go on" motion with his hands. Nodding in acknowledgment to the leader he closed the gap and the staff contact with the pile. It definitely felt like something more substantial and weighted than a simple mass of cloth. He gave it a few more testing jabs, the last one being the hardest. Whatever was in there rolled to the side, and it sounded like there was a faint pained moan emanating from the folds.

Michelangelo's eyes flew wide and he turned to his brothers. He was sure they had heard it too, because they both wore twin expressions of shock. He dropped the Bo, and impulsively made his way over to the object. He was a few feet away, and his steps were full of purpose. Someone may be hurt; someone may need his help.

"Mikey! Wait, we don't know -" Leo warned, but it was too late.

Michelangelo hovered above the form for a moment before bending over to uncover it more. His breath hitched in his throat when the cloth was pulled away, and he found himself at a stunned loss for words before he could process what he saw.

"Bros...I think you need to come here…"

His brothers were instantly by his side, with much of the same reaction that he had. It was clearly a mutant now laying before them. Green skin was coated in layers of dirt and caked on blood from old gashes, with a spattering a bruises in various states of healing. A long tapered tail curled around a leg, bent at the tip and clearly broken. There was a smaller lump of cloth clutched between two thin, bony arms. The mutant's body appeared weak and malnourished. It was hard to make out any features beyond this because of the lack of light and the filth covering it.

Donatello knelt down, beginning to reach an assessing hand forward, but he was stopped by Leonardo gripping his wrist.

"We don't know -"

"Not now, Leonardo," Donatello protested, his voice calm and full of conviction. His brown eyes shimmered in the dull light. Michelangelo half expected Leonardo to argue back, and was surprised when the eldest released his hold and brought his hand back to his side. With the way they had fought each other so often over the last year, it was not like Leonardo to acquiesce so easily to Donatello.

The genius placed a finger at the carotid artery on the neck to check for a pulse. What he felt was not reassuring. "There is a heartbeat, but it's very weak. I need to get it back to my lab if there is any hope for survival. Even at that, I am not sure."

"Donnie, you know how Splinter feels about this...how _I _feel about this. We cannot just bring some random person into the lair!" Leonardo objected.

"So we just leave them here to die?" Michelangelo chimed in. He normally did not take sides, but he felt that Donnie needed to give this fellow mutant a chance. It's not like they could drop it off at a local hospital. Donatello really was the only hope.

"I don't think-" Leo began, but was cut off by sharp shake of Donatello's head.

"I don't care what you think right now, Leo. I'm going to do, what I'm going to do," Donatello stated with more finality and assuredness than Michelangelo had heard in a while.

He went to pick the mutant up, but when he pushed against the smaller pile of cloth, Michelangelo was sure he it saw it move. This was followed by a sharp, frightened cry emitting from the layers.

"What the?" Leo commented from behind.

"That sounds like…" Mikey wondered out loud, "a baby?"

Michelangelo deftly pulled away the covering to reveal what indeed appeared to be a baby...but one unlike they had ever seen in any of their adventures.

"A baby...mutant…" Donatello breathed in wonder.

Three fingered fists tightly closed and a tiny green face tight with distress, it began to wail. Michelangelo instinctively picked it up. Despite never having held an infant before, he had seen enough television programs to have an idea. He cradled the head in the crook of an arm and attempted to calm it down with coos of comfort and rocking movements. He was vaguely aware that he should have been more interested in the fact that this baby clearly had a shell against his arm, but nothing was more alarming to him than when the infant had been soothed and ceased howling. Its eyes opened and began to study Mikey's face with unfocused interest. And those eyes struck Mikey to his core, wrenching his heart.

They were a bright, vivid green.

**A/N: Not my best. Hope it's ok. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: The Ninja Turtles do not belong to me. If they did, they would be writing this. XD.**

**A/N: WOW! Thanks for the reviews! I'm so glad everyone is enjoying this! *gives out TMNT cupcakes***

Michelangelo by nature was prone to being emotional, but the feelings warring for expression in his mind at that moment were overwhelming. His breath hitched in his throat, the muscles around his lungs constricting and pressing in his shock. He brought up his free hand and shakily traced the contours of the baby's head, as if the tactile input would make what he was seeing feel more real. His hand reached that of the baby's who grasped onto a finger with a chubby fist. Mike smiled warmly, a halo of tears wreathing his eyes and fuzzing his vision.

"Hey there, fella," he whispered, and was rewarded with a wide, toothless grin. "You look just like him…" Mike remarked dreamily, more to himself than to the baby.

In the meantime, Donatello had gathered up the adult mutant and began to hurriedly make his way back to the lair. Michelangelo and Leonardo followed in his wake. The leader knew there was no arguing with his younger brother at this point, but the whole situation had set him on edge.

Thus, Leonardo stayed quiet. The trip back to their home was wrought in a terse silence, an unwanted companion leading the way like a dangling carrot which promised only lies.

Michelangelo could sense the emotions boiling under his brothers' voiceless surfaces. Leonardo's strides were clipped and uneasy, a tightness in his shoulders giving away his apprehension. Donatello's frustration and urgency was rolling off of himself in waves, like heat off of pavement in the summer.

The genius left no time for explanation to Splinter when they arrived home. He immediately dashed into his lab to get to work. Splinter's expression filled with confusion at the sudden commotion, but Leonardo stayed behind to fill Splinter in on what little he knew.

"I'm sorry Donatello brought it to the lair, Master," Leonardo concluded. "I tried to talk him out of it…"

Splinter shook his head. "No...Donatello did the right thing. Sometimes in a moment such as that...the heart must win over the head."

The end of Splinter's comment had been slightly drowned out by the fussing of the infant in Mikey's arms. It squirmed restlessly, punching at the air with its diminutive fists. Splinter turned his attention to his youngest son and the interesting bundle in his arms. The ninja master's eyes glinted with curiosity as he took in the sight.

"This must be the baby Leonardo mentioned," Splinter smiled warmly. His eyes widened in surprise ever so slightly. "It's like looking back in time...very curious." he noted. "I remember when you four were small. This little one looks just like…" Splinter's voice trailed off.

"I know, sensei," Mikey knew exactly what Splinter was thinking.

Splinter looked over at the entrance to Donatello's lab. "One thing is for certain, our friend in there is going to have a lot of explaining to do…"

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

When Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Splinter went into the lab, Donatello was already a flurry of motion. He had placed the injured mutant on a cot in the infirmary area of his lab, and had already gotten to work attempting to stabilize it. He had equipment up to keep track of its vital signs and was administering supplemental oxygen. An IV dripped steadily overhead to replenish fluids. Mike didn't know what any of it meant, but from the grim expression on Don's face, he assumed it wasn't good.

The youngest was standing to the side, the baby having fallen asleep in the crook of his elbow. Splinter was silent next to him, his face unreadable. The sensei kept stealing sidelong glances at the infant, then shifting his attention back to the commotion before him. Leonardo went to assist Donatello where he was able, and if it weren't for the circumstances, Mike would have been overjoyed that they were cooperating. Leo's motions were strained and stiff, clearly still in opposition to having brought the intruder to the lair.

"We need to get this mutant cleaned off so I can assess the wounds and to lessen the chance of infection," Donatello commented, his voice detached and emotionless.

Leonardo nodded in acknowledgement and went to work with some wet towels. After a few moments of cleaning, he stepped back and instinctively covered his eyes, clearing his throat nervously.

"What?" Donatello questioned, but answered his own question when he glanced down. "Ohhh...this is clearly a female."

He covered her up a little with a blanket and turned his scrutiny back to the monitors. After shaking his head slightly at the values, he went to work with taking care of her wounds. He stitched up the deeper ones, and bandaged the others. He stopped for a moment when he reached one of her arms.

"Leo," he breathed. "Look at this…"

Leonardo went to Donatello's side and frowned deeply at the sight. Tied tightly around a delicate wrist was a grungy cloth, but it was clearly a fiery red. Leonardo carefully loosened it from the mutant's wrist and held it up. Tattered ends and two holes for eyes gave it away.

"Raph…" Leo spoke the word as if it were an unattainable dream. "Don, you have to save her. Is she…"

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

"_...is he going to make it?" _

_Leonardo attempted to keep his calm, but his words were shaky. If he noticed it, he was sure Donatello did. _

_Donatello gazed down at the unconscious form before him. The blips on the monitor and the slow rise and fall of the plastron were the only indicators that he was alive. It wasn't right seeing him like this. He was normally so vivacious, so full of life...and now he was a silent fixture in Don's lab._

"_I...I think so," Donatello wished he was a sure as he sounded. "He inhaled a lot of smoke back there...he has carbon monoxide poisoning...but I'm giving him oxygen now to get back up his levels, so hopefully…"_

"_Don…" the shakiness left Leo's voice and it grew serious, yet tinged with the ache of loss. "You have to save him. We've already lost Raph...we cannot lose Mikey too."_

"_I know," Donatello found himself unable to meet Leo's intense eyes. "Raph saved me...and I won't let that be in vain. Mikey will pull through. He _has _to."_

… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …

The blur of the monitors shifted back into clarity as Donatello's memory faded. The readings weren't promising of anything. Whatever she had been through had been intense. Donatello was honestly surprised she was alive at all.

He turned back to his mystery patient and pushed aside a few locks of the brown hair that was matted against her head. Her features were just as bruised and abused as the rest of her body, but Donatello could still make out the delicate roundness of her face, the graceful sweep of her lips, and the arch of her snout so like the turtles' own.

"Donnie?" Leonardo's words pushed through Donatello's revere.

"I honestly don't know, Leo," Donatello answered truthfully. "I don't know…"

**A/N: The mystery deepens even more...And who's excited for "Return to New York"?! After "Vision Quest" I know I am! :)**


End file.
